Glitter and Greed
Melanie Munton
(Brooklyn Brothers, #4)
Expected Publication: August 31, 2021
Cover Designer: L.J. Anderson at Mayhem Cover Creations
Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.
The exiled “sixth family” of the New York mafia. We’re the good guys.
People don’t fear us…much. They respect us.
The five of us? We’re the Brooklyn Brothers.
And we protect what’s ours.
Don’t ask me what made this girl different, what made her stand out. I’m not proud of it, but it wasn’t exactly my first ever lap dance. The last thing I expect is for the same woman I’ve been obsessing over for two months to waltz right into my gym.
Catalina “Cat” Vasquez is the most alluring, sensual woman I’ve ever met. She has secrets, and I want all of them. It’s the only way I can protect her. Because it seems I’m not the only one who’s been looking for her.
Just my luck that I would fall for a woman who has connections with the Mexican cartel. Who would have thought her stalker would be the same man who’s about to wage an all-out war on my turf?
I’m a fighter by nature.
I fight for what’s mine.
And I’m not about to lose to someone who wants to steal Cat away from me.
If he thinks his guns will save him from my fists, he came to the wrong city.
An Excerpt from Glitter and Greed:
I was Catholic. But I was also superstitious.
Which was why I was convinced that running into him during one of my deliveries, of all times and places, was an omen of something bad to come. Like a black cat running across your path. Or breaking a mirror. Or walking under a ladder while indoors.
He looked even better than I remembered.
Dios mio.
I’d had myself convinced he wasn’t even real. That the weird, unspoken connection we seemed to have formed in the ten minutes we’d been inside that room alone together at Rumors was all in my head. That the potency of his powerful, masculine body sprawled out on that leather sofa wasn’t as intoxicating as my memories wanted to recall. It was merely a wicked spell cast by well-placed blacklights, seductive music, and the sexual intimacy of dancing mostly naked for him.
But now I knew that the man who had been sneaking into my dreams most nights wasn’t a figment of my imagination. He was very, very real. Very much alive and virile.
And he was called Luka Rossetti.
My heart was pounding so hard it was ricocheting off my ribcage. My lungs constricted as words clawed at my throat, clambering to get out. But none came. It really didn’t help when I looked down.
I shouldn’t have looked down.
He was naked from the waist up, a pair of loose gym shorts resting low on his hips. The rest of his body was covered in a sheen of sweat and a blanket of tattoos. A mix of black and colored, they decorated most of his chiseled torso and his entire right arm. An arm that was roped with sharply cut muscles that bulged and flexed as he removed the white tape from around his knuckles. On top of that, his precisely defined abdominal muscles tightened with every minute move he made. Bisecting his pectorals was a silver crucifix hanging from a thick silver chain.
In all my life, I’d never seen such a man.
Which explained what the hell was going on with my body. It had certainly never behaved this way before, even around my ex-boyfriend, who was admittedly good-looking in his own right. My hands suddenly turned clammy, my breathing shallowed, and there was a distinct warmth spreading throughout my lower body.
Estasatrapandomoscas. You’re catching flies, as my mother liked to say.
I clamped my mouth shut, feeling the heat of embarrassment rush to my cheeks. I was still vacillating over what on earth to say to the most beautiful man I’d ever seen when he beat me to it.
“Me?”
His deep baritone washed over me like I was being immersed in a tank of sexy man. Once he finished unwrapping his knuckles, he started moving in my direction with a kind of predatory prowl that should have unnerved me. The fact that his body dwarfed mine by well over a foot and Dios knows how many pounds, should have made him appear threatening.
So, why did I want to move closer?
“I’m sorry, have we met?”
It was probably a good ten seconds before his words fully registered.
He doesn’t remember me.
Por supuesto. Of course, he didn’t. It had been one dance cut short over two months ago. He wouldn’t have stashedaway ten minutes with a random stranger in his memory bank. A man like him probably had countless women willing to get naked for him at the drop of a hat on speed dial.
Still…being so forgettable hurt like a bitch.
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